Dinner Party
by Miss Modern
Summary: Years after his time at Fox River Michael is leading a legal life married to Sara, But his demons from the past conflict his composure. Irresponsibility ensues. Would he cheat on Sara?
1. Aesthetic Organisation

The tablecloth was of leaf green jacquard design, the placemats were white silk, and there were crystal wine glasses glimmering under the lights. Napkin rings of her own design. An artistic touch she used as an outlet fromthe scientific methodical nature of her career

That's what had always intrigued him about her, the desire to personalise and decorate. From the photo frames to the curtains and various other items dotted throughout their city view apartment. These items all had a special personality. He liked it, it was theirs, it was home and it felt like it. The view reminded him of his apartment he had before prison, it kept in touch with that person.

As he closely observed Sarah's already prepared dining room on his way to work that morning Michael knew it wouldn't feel like home tonight, the formality made him uncomfortable, although he knew not to worry for her, she would be brilliant. Aesthetic organisation came naturally to her, uniqueness one of her best qualities. She came from a world where dinner parties mattered, the food, the wine, the setting all contributed to the outcome, there was usually something more formal or corporate based, going on when work colleagues came over for dinner. Although Sarah and Warden Henry Pope didn't operate like that, it's surely what it seemed like. Sarah's proposition for improvement to Fox River's medical structure had already been approved; he'd attended the awards ceremony that gave her the grant to implement it.

As the radio faded out and he cranked the hand brake into the on position, he settled himself, slowly removing the keys as he contemplated their guests for this evening.

He hadn't seen Pope since Fox River, 6 years had gone quickly. He and Lincoln both lived honest and legal lives but the presence of such authority and the memories embedded within it still made him tense. On edge, his mind begins turning at dangerous speed, automatically calculating and manipulating his pawns in a bigger game, because that's all they were once.

But not tonight he told himself, tonight was about her. Henry Pope and his wife Debra were attending dinner this evening so that Sarah and the Warden could discuss the new and exciting venture informally,

He double checked he'd locked all the doors and promised himself that he could do objectivity as he walked toward the lifts in the foyer of their building. He would listen to their discussion and not apply it to himself, the prisoner, who knew that improved medical facilities meant nothing to those guys, they were worried about survival, from their fellow inmates and the bulls. That intimate point of view Michael kept to himself and shared with nobody.

Breathing deeply he completed the rotation of the key and opened the door to the apartment he shared with his wife.

"Michael, its been too long" came the warm greeting from the Warden as soon as Michael stepped into view, shaking his hand with very pronounced movements. He respected Michael and was genuinely pleased to see him well. This eased Michael and he returned the greeting accordingly.

"So this is the man responsible for my anniversary present" was the playful greeting from Pope's wife.

"Debra, it's a pleasure to finally meet your acquaintance". Michael spoke through his smile ignoring Debra's joke as he noticed the panicked side glance that Pope shot in his direction

Turning on the charm, Michael replied, "Nonsense, I was simply a structural advisor".

Sara had heard him come in and immediately put her duties in the kitchen on hold, he would need her comfort and reassurance tonight.

As soon as he saw her his clenched jaw relaxed and some of the darkness faded from his eyes, while the most intense orbs she'd ever encountered focused on her.

No words, his body said it all, she went to him and he took her in his arms. The embrace was quick, he held her tight and for a fleeting moment her feet lifted from the floor.

He released his wife from the desperate entanglement and swiftly kissed her passionately on the lips as if he'd forgotten they had company. Reluctantly withdrawing from her husband's endearments, Sara turned her attention to her guests and apologised for their display of affection by chastising Michael.

Pope's respect for their love was evidenced in his next comment "You are not Dr. Tancredi now, Sara, you are Mrs Michael Scofeild and that's nothing to be ashamed of, especially in your own home, am I understood?" he finished smiling.

The look on Michaels face in response to this comment was priceless, Sara observed. He raised his eyebrows, his lips twitched toward a smile that he tried to hide, and his stare clearly said, in a childlike playful manner, "I win".

Recovering quickly Sara announced that dinner was minutes away and that Michael should get himself a drink and take a seat while she brought out the food.


	2. A Routine too Familiar

"Sara this is exquisite, how does a dedicated career woman become a culinary genius as well?" Asked Judy as they began the meal and took comfort in speaking ofpolitics and weather, both clichedfavouritesa dining table.

This first comment of praise for Sara's dinner was followed by Henry's charming suggestion of reciprocation. "Indeed, my dear. We must reciprocate sooner rather than later, I will cook my famous casserole"

Judy's exaggerated eye rolling spelt out for Michael and Sarah that this would most certainly not be the case; such special dinner guests would be taken care of by none other than herself.

All four of them laughed off the teasing between the older married couple and continued eating, falling into a smooth pattern of conversation. Michael began to relax and found comfort in the situation. For the first time in too many years, Henry Pope wasn't simply the memory that made his insides twist with guilt. If Michael were too optimistic he could perhaps conclude that a renewal of their friendship served as his apology for the awful things he did in the past.

Henry asked him politely about Lincoln, genuinely interested in his welfare after building a rapport of trust and respect with him during Lincoln's incarceration. Michael took great pleasure in informing Henry that Lincoln now had his life on track and remained dedicated to his family. Lincoln and Veronica shared a house outside the city and enjoyed the Sunday night family dinners with LJ and his girlfriend whom he now lived with.

"That's very white picket-fence".

Came the good-humoured response that pointed out Henry's surprise at the normality of Lincoln's reformed existence. He meant well, and Michael attempted this mantra for several seconds, but he also noticed a bitterness that was almost snobbish. Michael's defensive hat was fastly in place as his emotions told him Pope's comment revealed not only suprise but, that he thought Lincoln were never capable of such a law-abiding and fulfilling existence. While Michael was still struggling with his conflicting interpretations, his wife made her stance in his sub-concious battle clear.

"Surprising, I agree" Sara joined in. "But Linc was always a good man. Even good people make mistakes, the way I see it, Lincoln out of trouble, equals my husband safe"

Sara's needs to be supportive and loyal to the efforts of her former patient made this comment seem like a reprimand. However, Michael not wanting to loose the mood of conversation, however offended he may be, heattempted to return the conversation to light-hearted fun, all the while being conscious that he was stillmanipulating the situation and calculating the consequences of everything he said as if he needed to. Plastering on his charm, the warm smile, and facade of sincerity that had become so instinctive he didn't even know he was doing it, he replied.

"You must not take my beautiful wife the wrong way, she doesn't mean to chastise, and she is simply protective because she knows a good thing when she finds it". This remark was a taunt, said through a smile that he knew his wife adored and would instantly put her at ease.

The joke was enjoyed by all and Sara was compelled to retaliate. With over exaggerated sweetness she retorted;

"Very funny, sweetheart, although you fail to realise that my concern is purely medical, stitching up dismembered toes is not why I go to work everyday"

She meant no harm and indeed Michael's aim to lighten the conversation was achieved. But the sudden reminder of Michaels trauma's in prison sent his mind spiralling as he felt a sharp pang in his stomach. The following exchanges between his wife and their guests went by completely unknown to Michael as he zoned out and was no longer in the pleasant setting of his home. Cut off toes, thrown over railings, sexually harassed, threatened, innocent lives taken, his brother slipping further and further out of his grasp…

"Michael" Sara addressed her husband as he had failed to acknowledge Henry latest uncomfortable effort at safe conversation.

"Did we loose you there sweetheart?"...Nothing

"Darling" This time moving her face to directly in front of his out-of-focus staring.

"Hmm, Sorry?" Michael's surroundings seemed to thump back to the front of his mind soquickly he suddenly felt ill. Giving his head a small shake as if it would help, he attempted to focus as his wife continued with more confidence in her voice than her eyes believed.

"Henry has just asked you a question" Sara informed Michael, her tone laced with concern; she knew that dazed stare all too well, his thoughts were never of the pleasant nature when that expression invaded his beautiful features.

"I'm sorry, I really am, I need to be excused, my memory had just been jogged, I've remembered something at work, and the conference is tomorrow".

Michael rattled of the best excuse he could think of on the spot, feigning concern about unfinished paperwork that he had forgotten to prepare for an important deal going through tomorrow. Michael Scofeild didn't just forget something and his wife knew this, but she also new that Michael was a very private and mechanical being and if needed his space to think, that's what he got.

This unspoken knowing between the two is what made their union rare and shortly after his excuse was accepted by Sara, Michael found himself being helped into his jacket and handed the car keys, followed by a peck on the cheek and a reassuring hug that ended with a very worried Sara Scofeild watching her husband disappear down the corridor.


	3. Take me back

Michael's childhood had been riddled with loss and loneliness, but the life he had now, the opportunity to make something of himself would not have been possible without Lincoln's sacrifices. Lincoln had deliberately made unlawful decisions with nothing but Michael's long term well-being at heart. When a man is down you give him your hand. That is what his mother taught them and that's what Michael did.

"You've been through this Scofield" he muttered to the empty car as he pulled out of the parking garage. His yearn for reassurance sharpened the pang in his stomach. He needed to find an outlet, a break from this mess and for that; he needed to go back to where it all started.

As he mindlessly went through the motions of operating the vehicle he attempted to reorganise his thoughts. He struggled to suppress the numb ache that threatened to take over his mind and control his ability to rationalise. Crumbling and surrendering to the pain was not an option for Michael Scofeild.

Right then Left, Right again, and then three green lights and he were almost there. He may live in a harbour view apartment on a good salary but he would never remove himself from his roots. Helping kids condemned to the streets that held nothing but misery, was a mission he would never neglect, that's why he still lived close to where he grew up. These streets that tortured his brother remain at the very centre of his current trauma.

The woven leather of his favourite swing was frayed and covered in graffiti these days but as Michael slowly swang back and forth in the deserted park, surrounded by nothing but darkness and his memories, he was taken back.

Michael's habit of escaping to the park when he needed to think, was developed at a very young age, something about the rhythmic lull of the swing soothed him and helped unravel the chaos of his mind.

flashback

_His mother had been gone merely a week and he hadn't spoken to anybody about it, Lincoln had tried but Michael felt lifeless inside, he convinced himself he was like a poison, their father wasn't interested and now this unjust world had taken his mother too. _

"_Michael you can't stay out here all night"_

_The voice brought him out of his reverie as he looked up at her with tears in his eyes. _

"_And, who's going to mind if I do V?"_

_His response was laced with anger and indicated a concerning lack of self worth, but he and Lincoln meant so much to her, she had to persist._

"_I know it feels worthless, Mike, but the thing is, I would mind, and Linc would mind. So even if you're at the end, the very end Mike, you have to be strong because the people that love you will never leave you, to get through this you need to reach out to them and do it together, you don't just get to give up, that would be too easy and I know you better than that, so come home and we'll face it together"_

end flashback

Returning to the present Michael let a smile twitch at his lips because he knew he could go on. It was as Veronica had said all those years ago. Succumbing to anguish is not the courageous option, and we have to find a way to get through because that's just how we go on.

It may be hard now and the morally correct man that he is will always question the choices he made in that prison but he had fought for those he loved and right now he had to remain strong, if for nothing else but to honour his mother's memory.


	4. Stripped

Sara knew something was wrong. She knew he never forget something at work. She knew the Warden's presence had disturbed something buried deep. She was terrified.

She realised that she may have falsely convinced herself that Michael was grounded and in control, but her current fear for his state of mind ripped at her composure, his learned demeanour became so unravelled when tortured by his prison memories, and it broke her heart to know, that nothing she could say would comfort him. She felt so helpless. It frightened her to think that maybe she would never really penetrate this man. His troubles were beyond her.

At this point Henry poked his head around the door to the kitchen and asked affectionately.

"Sara sweetheart, is something wrong? It doesn't take this long to make coffee"

She had worked with Henry for almost a decade now and he had become the father figure she would never have. He could read her, and she did not have the energy to play her way out of it coolly, like her husband did instinctively. At that moment she decided not to close up like Michael did when somebody threatened to break through his shell.

"I'm sorry Henry, I'm a terrible host, I'm just worried about Michael"

"I've always admired your innate desire to be helpful, but there are times when people just need to work it out on their own".

He said this as he moved into the kitchen and silently motioned for her to move away from the bench so that he could complete the task of making coffee. She let him; she was powerless to respond otherwise. She turned around and lent on the bench on the other side of the kitchen to steady herself, running her fingers through her hair and exhaling loudly.

Lightly touching her on the back Henry said softly

"Why don't you rejoin Judy in the dining room and I'll be out with these in a moment"

Sarah sighed in defeat yet she was grateful for Henry's understanding. She slowly stalked out of the kitchen feeling weak. Upon rejoining Judy in the dining room, she forced politeness to get through an inevitably similar conversation with Judy, which predictably made Sara feel no better.

Courteous niceties were exchanged over coffee as Sara tried her best not to just scream with the frustration of the waiting game. She was relieved from the trauma of it soon enough however as Henry and Judy found an excuse to retire, declaring that the night had gotten late and they should leave her to make sure Michael was ok, comforting her had become too awkward, as alike her they felt helpless to find a solution and she was grateful to not have to entertain guests any longer.

Henry's attempt to leave Sara with reassurance had the exact opposite effect.

"Sara" He stated matter-of-factly looking directly into her eyes

"Michael is a smart man, and my god does he love you, he wont do anything stupid, you try to look after yourself now ok".

She nodded her head and kept her lips pursed, she couldn't form the words to say thankyou, so she simply hugged both her guests and leant numbly against the door frame as they made their way to the elevator.

"If he's such a good man, why is he letting me go through this" She whispered almost inaudibly to nobody but herself, alone and anxious.

Michael wasn't expecting to see Lincoln's vehicle pulling up beside his as he returned to it.

Lincoln's facial expression mirrored his own and Michael realised Lincoln had come to the park for the exact same reasons he had.

"Little bro, what are you doing here" he asked with feigned confidence as he jumped down from his 4WD and approached Michael.

"I could ask the same of you tough guy" Michael returned with a small forced smile.

Lincoln opened and closed his mouth a few times whilst fidgeting with his keys that were still in his hand, and then sighed in defeat not being able to find the right words.

Michael offered him a reassuring smile and a soft manly slap on the shoulder as the realisation that Lincoln had upset Veronica again become certain.

"Come on let's get a beer and trade sob stories" Michael joked trying to make the older brother smile as he guided him back to his vehicle.

Michael had momentarily been lifted by the thoughts of sharing a drink with his brother and having someone to talk his traumas out with. As daunting and unlike himself as that prospect was, at least Lincoln would understand. However the brief possibility of Michael's night looking better was short lived as he realised that Lincoln, who he had been following to the bar of his choice, had not chosen a bar at all, he'd chosen a strip club, and not just any strip club.

Slamming the door as he got out of his vehicle Michael felt the rage set in and he stormed over to where Lincoln was now out of his car and waiting. Michael was determined to tell him just how stupid he was and that Veronica wasn't going to be the only one not speaking to him.

Before Michael could get a word out Lincoln held up his hands in surrender signalling for Michael to take it easy and hear him out.

Michael resisted his onslaught of abuse, stopping abruptly only inches from Lincoln's face, folded his arms, clenched his jaw, and gave his older brother the most threatening glare of impertinence he could muster, daring Lincoln to annoy him further.

"Mike, mike, calm down, I know she works here, but this is where you and I always came, I know you haven't forgotten, before V went to college, before I messed up, before it all, I need to be back there, just for a little while"

Michael could see the pleading in his eyes and was taken aback by the reminder. If Lincoln was playing this card on him it had to be for a good reason. Not feeling like battling anymore this evening, Michael relaxed his features only slightly and grunted;

"One drink." Before taking off ahead of him and slamming his palm into the heavy entrance door, pushing harder than necessary.

Finding spare stools at the bar Michael ordered Scotch, straight up. Lincoln took residence beside him and wordlessly held up two fingers to the bar tender who swiftly delivered their drinks. Lincoln picked up the glass with one capable hand and downed the entire contents in one melancholic slow movement, screwing up his face as he felt the burning pleasure of the liquid invade on his insides.

He then held the glass up to the bartender and shook it, signalling for another, and then slowly lowered it to the bar with a soft thunk.

He let himself exhale loudly with the relief and tried to find the confidence to address Michael, who was sipping his drink rhythmically and looked miles away.

"You first"

Were the words Lincoln finally managed.

Just this once Michael decided that he wouldn't keep it buried within.

"Pope is over for dinner tonight, like I told you last week, remember"

Receiving a nod from his brother he continued

"It all came back Linc. I thought I had gotten past it, thought we'd gotten past it.

"She's everything to me, and we're strong, but I don't know what was wrong with me tonight. I just had to get out of there; I just walked out and left her with our guests"

Lincoln knew that feeling all too well. Not only did he know how hard it was, he also knew that nothing he could tell his little brother would help. It pained him to be helpless but he was certain his company and support, even if he were there just to listen was valuable enough to Michael.

"I don't know what to tell you Mike, but it's over for this time. It will get easier next time, just hang in there".

Lincoln decided reassuring Michael that it would work out was definitely the better option rather than pointing out how wrong it was to have walked out on Sara like he had described. If Lincoln knew anything about women, the worst thing you could do when you had problems, was walk out.

"Well that's very optimistic" Michael replied obviously calling Lincoln's bluff. He knew Lincoln didn't believe what he said as strongly as he was making out.

"So tell me about you and V, what did you do this time?"

Michael said next, with a small smile at his brother's reaction that clearly said 'you got me'.

"You know me too well Michael. Well it all started when we met a friend of LJ's, he asked something I didn't know how to answer, like you, I suppose, I got caught up and I didn't keep it together really well".

The conversation continued and the brothers took the opportunity to talk it all out over more drinks.

Their conversation had moved past their problems as the alcohol took of the edge and they seemed less painful. They had moved on to reminiscing about the day when Veronica graduated and they had both been by her side to celebrate with her.

Michael was feeling slightly tipsy. That pleasurable disorientation wafted through his senses and he found it easy to talk and laugh about the good old days with his brother, until he was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder.

He turned around in his bar stool to address the person and almost gasped aloud when he realised who it was. Stammering from his inebriation or his astonishment he wasn't sure, but the only word he could form was

"Nika"

"Don't look so surprised Michael, you did come to my club"

She said sweetly, her strong accent showing.

The situation was so sobering Michael regained his composure very quickly and centred himself, realising that he would have to speak to her one day. Taking a deep breath and opening his arms to offer her an embrace he asked

"How have you been?"

She returned his greeting and realised it wasn't as awkward as she had anticipated. They weren't married in the traditional sense of the word she reminded herself. They had needed each others help at the time and they were both happy now, so she saw no reason as to why they couldn't become reacquainted as the mature adults they were. These thoughts must have been conveyed through her expression as the tension written on Michael's face eased and she responded to tell him that she had now built a relationship with the owner of the club and she was also part owner.

Lincoln had also greeted Nika pleasantly and enjoyed hearing her talk about Michael before prison. Nika took a seat and drank with them while the conversation flowed easily and Michael carefully skirted the topic of his current marriage's problems.

Interrupting the start of an enjoyable reacquainting Lincoln excused himself and left abruptly informing Michael and Nika that Veronica had paged him and he needed to rush off and try to patch it up.

Michael slapped him on the back and wished him good luck.

"Thanks for tonight bro" Lincoln said meaningfully through a hug, then slammed some bills on the counter and left.

Lincoln rushed through the crowd of people looking down at his cell phone as he made a bee line for the exit. He didn't even acknowledge the identity of the man he bumped into on his way out the door of the dark club.

The man took a seat at his usual table; he was greeted immediately with his usual beverage. Settling down and taking off the edge with alcohol had become routine after a day in his line of work.

He looked to the barman in an attempt to catch his attention and motion for a refill. It was then that he saw them. He knew those eyes, only they weren't steely and calculated as he remembered them; they were glazed over and focused on the laughing figure of his ex-wife. A scene the observer found very surprising, yet he found it even more interesting. An evil smirk took over his features as he watched Michael Scofeild and Nika Volek sip their cocktails and talk freely obviously enjoying themselves.


	5. Guilt

A clumsy knock on the door stirs her slumber and she sits up abruptly, realising she had dozed off on the lounge. Another knock. Pulled completely from her reverie now, she gets up, her body crying out with the discomfort as she stretches and quickly glances at the luminous digits of the clock. 2:35am. Walking to the door she knows it can only be one person.

"Michael I'm coming"

She opens the door. Michael is leaning against the door frame, one large hand gripping the wooden structure. A boyish grin on his face. He reeks of liquor and his jacket collar is tucked under.

Is he drunk? She asks herself whilst observing him scrutinisingly. She's confused. She hates being confused, but that's not priority right now.

"Sara" he manages to slur almost breathlessly.

"I'm sorry, I love you" these two testaments are a struggle for him and he almost looses his balance as he leans in to caress her face.

She lets him fall into her and struggles with his broad frame, helping him in the door.

Getting him settled on the coach is her best option. She has one arm around his back now whilst his own arm is slouched around her petite shoulders.

Pulling the blanket she had been snuggling with over the now thankfully horizontal Michael she rushes away to the kitchen. The doctor in knowing that he needs water.

She fetches the glass of water and takes a moment to calm herself. Leaning on the kitchen bench for support and letting out the breath she didn't realise she was holding in. Running her hands through her long red locks, tugging slightly with the frustration of it all, she realises its not the first time tonight she has felt so aggravated.

Upon return to the lounge room she isn't surprised to find her husband has succumbed to the effects of his torturous night and is sleeping soundly. She stands still hovering above him for just a minute. She's loved him since the first time she saw him. They've made it through everything life has thrown at them. Her existence would be void without him. She needs him like roses need the rain.

Sara kisses him softly on the forehead, a ragged breath escaping through trembling lips. She's fighting tears as she retreats to their bedroom.

The minute he raises his head from the stiff arm of the lounge, the pain explodes and he's sure his brain is about to burst. He groggily opens his eyes and promptly realises his error, his head pounds more intensely. Every muscle in his body aches and he feels too heavy to move. Sunlight has penetrated the curtains and filters into the room, the obvious source of his awakening, the room seems to be filled with a thick hot haze, his lips are chapped and his throat dry. Signifiers of the night before.

He feels dirty and cheap; it's so unlike him that the personal disgust threatens to make his ill feeling escalate.

Straining his eyes to survey the room he sees a glass of water on the coffee table in front of him, reaching out for it, he thanks the gods for his smart wife, then he notices it, she's left him a note. Soft pink paper folded in half under the glass, where she knows he won't miss it.

_Michael, _

_I had to leave early for work. I know last night with Henry was hard for you. _

_I shouldn't have put you in that position. I understand that now._

_I'm not upset with you so don't feel guilty._

_I love you with all my heart._

_Recuperate and we will talk when I get home _

_All my love_

_Sara_

_- Painkillers are on top of the fridge. _

His fears had been confirmed. He most certainly did not deserve her.


	6. Oh So Low

Sara's thoughts were consumed by one thing on the way to work that morning, her husband. She had made a vow to him years ago and she would stick to it, for better or worse, in sickness or in health. She needed to be strong for Michael when times were hard, her personal insecurities would not consume her, when her man needed her.

No matter how optimistic she willed herself to be, he had worried her last night. His sudden departure and lengthy unknown absence had panicked her incredibly. Because the man she married didn't sporadically go out and hit the booze like he had last night.

To get through the upcoming day she promised herself, they would work it out. So that next time, he'd know he could talk to her, he didn't need to go out and drown the pain like that ever again.

"Morning Sara"

Katie greeted her with usual politeness as she entered the infirmary.

"And a good morning it is"

Sara returned with an air of conviction designed more to convince herself of it rather than to describe the morning.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa"

Katie scrutinised as she excitedly removed herself from her seat behind the desk and briskly followed Sara to her office determined to find out what was going on with her colleague.

Katie came up behind her and crossed her arms demanding more information, uncannily similar to the way Michael did when he knew something was up, Sara noted reluctantly.

Sighing Sara replied.

"There is nothing wrong with optimism, now get back to work, because if I go through it with you I might just be forced to drown the pain the same way my husband did last night".

Katie's quirked eyebrow and confused smirk told Sara she wasn't backing down.

"We'll have this conversation later, I promise"

Sara shot an equally determined glare back at her, then pushed past her, grabbing the files from her desk and headed for the examination room.

The hot water is scalding but refreshing. Caressing his neck, shoulders and back as it washes away the night before. Seldom has Michael dealt with pain the way he did last night. The state of drunkenness has always disgusted him, so false and distant from his real persona. Mostly he hated the loss of control, the way it altered his ability to be rational.

Michael may not have been rational in getting drunk, but he comforted himself with his one redeeming effort of the night. He had said no. She had come onto him, and he had said no. Try as he may to remind him self of this and use it as reassurance of his dignity, he had put himself in that position. He hadn't declined when she suggestively invited him to share a private room away from the crowds and noise.

He shut off the water and willed himself to do the same with the memory, closing his eyes tightly and shaking his head as if that would help. Wrapping a towel snugly around his waist and exiting the bathroom he saw the note again and two thoughts he was very thankful for came to mind. Firstly, the location of the painkillers, and secondly, that his wife loved him regardless of his stupidity.

If Michael hadn't gotten something right in his life, it was marrying Sara. He found the painkillers and took three. Maybe one more than the doctor in his wife would approve of, but he needed to rid himself of his pounding headache. Still repulsed by himself he picked up the phone deciding to do something to try and make it up to his beautiful wife.

Reservations at our favourite Restaurant are a good start he thought as swiftly moved to his desk drawer to find some origami paper. He excitedly pulled out glossy red and green determined to replicate her favourite the rose he'd made for her the very first time he'd showed her he cared. He was driven by the prospect of a good idea and the hope of progressing past the anxiety he knew he had caused his wife last night.

Finishing not one, but three origami roses, he also extracted a white piece of paper and scrawled on it with his fountain pen.

My Love,

Dinner at 8. You know where. See you then.

Michael

Still anxious about his mission to rectify everything he realised there was someone he needed to see, he had walked out on her last night, in the most uncomfortable and embarrassing circumstances. He would clear up their drunken misunderstanding and then he could reaffirm his love for his wife and put all of his insecurities behind him once and for all.

He gathered up his delicate works of art and the note, placing them neatly on the coffee table. He checked and rechecked the aesthetics of their arrangement, then lined them up at a different angle, then took a step back to survey his display. Fidgeting nervously as if his meticulous preparation would convey more meaning. As he walked away he glanced back and nodded satisfied to himself, before he grabbed his jacket and keys and left.

Sara dropped the last file of the day back onto her desk with a little more force than necessary thankful the day was over. Sighing heavily as she collected her belongings and prepared to leave.

She walked past Katie as quickly as she could determined not to be pulled into a conversation she didn't want to have.

If she was pleased by avoiding Katie she was now being punished for it, she thought as she noticed Brad Bellick, her least favourite C.O. getting into his car which was, as fate would have it, parked next to hers.

He heard her keys jingle and turned around. She cursed under her breath and wished she possessed her husband's natural stealth. He was approaching her. 'Play nice Sara' she chanted in her head.

"Sara"

He drawled slowly, getting her attention. He seemed hesitant, was her nervous? She wondered venturing a guess as to his unusual tone.

"I know we have never quite gotten along, and admittedly I've never had any respect for Scofeild". He began

Even the way he said Scofeild had unnerved her from the he first day he had bought Michael to her Infirmary. It was laced with loathing, and condescendence.

"What is it Brad?"

She offered somewhat impatiently, folding her arms and waiting.

"Well, I just wanted it said; I'd never have thought even he would stoop low enough to go back to her".


	7. Running Broken

Running down the corridor propelled by enthusiasm and the prospect of a successful plan Michael has to make a last minute lunge to catch the elevator door. He doesn't like waiting when he's energized, so he's thankful to be moving downward in the elevator now rather than in 5 minutes. The sooner he reaches the bottom, the sooner he speaks to Nika, and the sooner he can rendezvous with Sara.

He ticks off his tasks mentally, fighting to proceed methodically before the anticipation takes over. He and Sara haven't been out to dinner in months, and if he weren't so nervous he'd be excited. He lets his mind wander as he drives to the club. Letting himself surrender into the abyss, he wonders what she will wear and tries to remember her perfume. Maybe she will wear the brown silk skirt that he loves, with the black blouse that reveals her long graceful neck. Her hypnotising beauty had claimed him from the beginning. As images of her seductive smile flash through his consciousness he realises his breathing has quickened. Exhaling forcefully he desperately tries to concentrate. He loosens his tie and pleads with himself to save those thoughts for later while the terrifying realisation hits him like a freight train. He needs to make this right, because he needs her like he needs oxygen.

Finding a park he takes a minute to sit and process his thoughts, to organise, to structure. The club doesn't look as immoral and sinful in the daylight, he notes to himself with a bitter chuckle. He enters through a heavy metal door and instantly notices her, seated at the bar as if she's expecting him.

"Michael" she drawls in her rich accent, tilting her head and giving him the type of endearing look usually reserved for children or puppies.

"I thought you might drop by today"

She adds, her tone making it very obvious that she knows him well and is proud of it.

He suppresses a nervous giggle appreciative of her relaxing resolve and takes a seat next to her before replying.

"I thought I owed you an apology" he admits embarrassed.

Mimicking his expression and sighing heavily before returning

"I'm sorry too; I didn't intend to let it get to an awkward situation"

Deciding to make the most of her honesty and straightforwardness he finds the confidence to put it out in the open, but not before checking over his shoulder to reconfirm their privacy. He leans in closer and drops his voice to a rushed whisper.

"Nika I almost kissed you, I was drunk, I was upset at myself about hurting Sara and I shouldn't have tried to take advantage of you, I was out of line"

Sighing again and reaching to squeeze his hand reassuringly she tries to ease his pain.

"Michael, don't be ridiculous, I have nothing to be proud of either, there'll be no more talk of it, and you can stop punishing yourself"

She asserts affectionately.

Smiling with relief he submits, just this once not minding that someone had read him like an open book. He takes hold of the hand squeezing his own and kisses the back of it lightly to convey his gratitude for her understanding. This was exactly what he needed to hear.

"Okay, but I should thank you for straightening me out"

He concluded.

Her response was nothing but pronounced head shaking, and once again he was sure her expression was better suited to chastising a child.

He was disturbed from his internal whining by Nika looking over his shoulder to welcome somebody.

"Sweetheart, come join us, there's someone I'd like you to meet"

Michael turned around to examine this alleged sweetheart who then greeted his ex-wife intimately.

"Michael, I'm sorry, this is James, my partner, I mentioned him last night"

Nika stammered out withdrawing from the embrace of the now named sweetheart.

Michael had to suppress a confused stare as the man who was clearly Nika's boyfriend extended his hand to greet him. Michael's intoxicated frenzy of the previous night had evidently disabled his memory more than he had realised, or liked to admit for that matter.

Michael responded subsequently by shaking James hand.

James then joined them and proceeded to tell Michael that Nika had spoken of him and he was very glad to finally meet him. The conversation for the next 10 minutes centred on the new lovers wistful declarations of how special finding true love is.

However sceptical of dreamy testaments Michael's scientific brain may be, he had to conclude that the important thing was that visiting Nika had gone exceptionally well. Furthermore it had ended on a very pleasant note; to be exact, promises of a social gathering involving Nika, James, Sara and himself.

Michael raced back to his vehicle, the enthusiasm that pulsed through him when he left home having doubled. He had fulfilled his self appointed objective and was now free to think about his upcoming evening. As the images of Sara danced through his consciousness once again he set his course for the restaurant.

"Will anybody be joining you tonight sir?"

The third polite waitress asks him through a smile he knows she's paid to plaster on for him.

He shakes his head without meeting her eyes, blows out the candles he had especially set up on their table and apologises to the doorman upon exiting.

He tells himself that Sara was caught up at work, ignoring the unlikeliness of this since she hasn't called but tries not to let his mind spiral to the worst scenario as he decides to meet her at home. Getting take-out instead he fantasises about recreating their dinner at home and hopes she hasn't beat him home so he has time to set up.

Clothes, shoes and her laptop, that's as fair as her scattered state can take her, she bustles around their room hastily selecting randomly from her closet and clumsily pelting all the items at the open suitcase she's set out on their bed. She then collects up the results of her bad aiming and struggles to zip up the suitcase with trembling hands and tear blurred vision.

She lets her eyes pass over the photo of them framed by his side of the bed, the bed they've affirmed their love in, so many times over the past 5 years.

Then she remembers his dishevelled clothing and the stench of perfume that he returned with last night.

She picks up the frame and surveys it for the thousandth time; he's cuddling her from behind and their looking into each others eyes, their smiles as wide as the ocean in the background. When the memories of their honeymoon in Baja come flooding back to her at dangerous speed, whirling around fiercely poisoning her sanity, she crumbles. Before her hot tears can fall onto the glass frame she succumbs to the rage and hurls it across the room watching it smash violently against the wall. It bounces to the floor breaking into a thousand tiny shards and it's not the only thing that just broke. Sara Scofeild hurriedly and carelessly wipes the tears from her eyes and leaves the room with a broken heart.

She rushes through the apartment convulsing, not even trying to contain the fit off tears; numbly slinging her hand bag over her shoulder. She slams the door rapidly behind her as if causing it pain will decrease hers, and then forces herself to make it to the elevator, then to a cab before she hyperventilates and passes out.

But she doesn't make it that far, she's stopped in the foyer. When she sees him she's not sure she has the energy to deal with him, she wants out of this situation.

He's seen her now and comes running to her as the fear distorts his gorgeous face.

Dumbstruck by her appearance he can only stammer two words through his confusion as he opens his arms trying to comfort her.

"What's……wrong"

She can't believe it, she observes his manner as feigned shock and it makes her sick, she'd thought he was different.

"Don't you dare act surprised Michael…Bellick saw you…a private room…how could you"

Spitting out every word with disgust, she's surprised she can actually control her anger enough to speak.

"What…No…Sara…you've got it all wrong…it…wasn't like that"

Comes his pathetic clichéd excuse and that's all she can handle.

"I have been manipulated by your charm and tact so many times Michael Scofeild…not this time…not this time".

With that she's gone, he tries to take her in his arms and calm her down, explain the misunderstanding, but she will not be pawn in his games this time. She tears herself from his arms and stubbles into a run trembling and convulsing through the stream of tears, shamelessly like a small child.


	8. Demons and Angels

If he wasn't so disgusted with himself or torn by Sara's distraught departure he may have enjoyed the morning drive out of the city. It was getting colder; he had always loved Chicago at this time of year. The crisp winter air; always so fresh and pure. There was an aesthetic simplicity to the landscape. The thick blanket of white snow reflecting the dark blue sky was like an amazing unnatural force that threatened the land.

As beautiful as his childhood memories of it were, on this particular day, the bleak scenery served only to mirror his temperament. He felt as cold and dead on the inside as the lifeless trees sweeping by the window of his car.

He knows his journey is almost over as the traffic and farmhouses become more scattered with every mile. Then all he can see is the vast snow covered fields; the lifeless trees are his only company on this deserted road. He remembers the snow better than he would like to. The way the old stone structure of Fox River was spattered with white when he was there, is etched into his retina, he'll never forget how cold his cell was during a Fox River winter. The cold lonely image of Fox River may be etched onto his retina but the warmth of the woman he loves is etched into his heart, and right now that's the only thing pushing him forward.

As Fox River comes into view he wonders anxiously wether he should have called ahead, so that Sara could clear him as a visitor and gate security would be expecting him. But she probably wouldn't have spoken to him. He straightens his tie in the rear view mirror as he rolls up to the booth, the security guard already looking disgruntled by an unannounced visitor.

"Michael Scofeild to see Dr. Scofeild"

Michael asserts before the guard can comment, it may have been years since his escape but Michael knows every prison guard in America would dive at the chance to drive their baton into his ribs. As the guard looks him up and down, scrutinising his corporate appearance and expensive vehicle Michael is certain he's imaging exactly that.

The guard finally growls a response;

"The Warden saw your vehicle on the monitors and radioed for you to be escorted to his office immediately".

If Michael was relieved by the surprising smoothness of the situation it's short-lived as the guard adds;

"Seems screwing the Doc has gotten you on the big guys Christmas card list Scofeild"

Michael knows he should have expected this; that it would be a pre-requisite of any new guard working under Bellick to be as ill minded and corrupt as he is. The reminder of Bellick's involvement in Michael's current heartache makes him seethe with anger and he has to draw upon every inch of self control within him in order to not retort. One thought assists his return to his usual calm calculated self; he is here for Sara and that's the most important objective right now. He clenches his jaw, then expels the breath he hadn't realised he was holding. He then directs his vehicle to the visitor parking lot as instructed.

Sara awoke uncomfortably to a knock on her hotel room door. The nightmare that had tormented her all night faded away as she wiped her eyes, let the room come into focus, and departed completely from her restless slumber. The night had been poisoned by images of her husband with another woman, waking her constantly. All that flashed through her mind when she closed her eyes was that occasion at Fox River all those years ago. She had walked down the stairs to discover the most unlikely scene of Michael Scofeild embracing an unknown woman. His warmth radiated from him and she could see how much he cared about this woman, another woman, because even then, the girly side of Sara had raced to imagine a possibility of a future with Michael. She had trusted her instincts about Michael from the very beginning, and given in to his magnetism. Now she was haunted by that image of them coming from the Conjugal room, which was always followed by flashes of this woman's arms around him again in this private room Bellick mentioned. Private room sounded so cheap and dirty, and she was beginning to doubt the intellect class and charm that defined Michael, the things that made him so alluring from the very first time she saw him.

Sara was pulled back to the present by the next persistent knock and she recognised the voice that accompanied it.

"I know your in there Sara, open up, it's Veronica"

Swinging her legs over the side of the bed and finding her dressing gown Sara reluctantly makes her way to the door, not at all looking forward to the inevitable conversation. She's irritated with her terrible nights sleep being further disturbed and decides to get in first.

"I don't want to hear it Veronica, whatever it is; I'm not going through it with you."

Sara is surprised as Veronica gives her a sympathetic smile and moves through the door to wordlessly embrace her, before declaring her motives.

"You probably haven't eaten Sara; let me at least take you for lunch"

Realising the sense in Veronica's request and being thankful for a friend Sara dispels her defences and agrees.

As lunch and much needed nourishment proceeds Sara is thankful to realise Veronica has no intention of forcing her to explain and discuss her current situation. Veronica speaks of work and politics as they enjoy their meal, making it clear that she wishes only to provide company and support and that if Sara needs to talk she will be available.

Sara has always appreciated Veronica's company; they have become good friends throughout the years. They speak easily about new city policies and budget plans for the medical sector, that's when the inevitable topic of Michael intrudes into their safe conversation. Veronica congratulates Sara on the approval of her proposal for Fox River, proceeding to tell her that she is proud to know such a grounded and driven career woman. Veronica's praise and congratulations fall upon deaf ears as Sara recounts the previous night.

As Sara begins to wring her hands nervously and become mesmerised with her plate Veronica notices her friend's sudden discomfort.

"Did I say something wrong Sara?"

Veronica inquires affectionately lowering her head to meet Sara's eyes.

After a short moment passes and Veronica is certain Sara is finding it too difficult to find the words to express herself she decides to ignore Sara's request to not discuss Michael.

"I know you don't want to hear anything I have to say about Michael, but he was around at our place last night and he's pretty messed up"

She sighs heavily, deliberating her every word then continues;

"So please Sara; never question how much he loves you, he would never betray you, behind every great man is a strong woman and he needs you more than he needs air, it's written in his eyes every time he looks at you. I know he has his demons from the past but you're the reason he fights them."

Sara considers Veronica's statement for a long moment then finally looks up at her with glistening eyes. Wiping her eyes dry for the second time today Sara breathes deeply and takes Veronica's hand across the table. She squeezes her hand and thanks her with appreciative sincerity.

"There's something I need to do Veronica"

She lets go of her hand and leaves with pursed lips and that look of determination that tells Veronica it will all be ok.

Pope meets Michael in the car park, as he knows just like Michael does, that the prison guards would not be able to resist taunting him. Pope also knows that Michael being here at all means something serious and his protective instinct is activated.

He greets the younger man with an enthusiastic hand shake wearing a look of obvious confusion and immediately asks;

"Michael, is everything ok?"

Michael may be here only as a visitor but the mask was immediately in place as he answered nonchalantly;

"I'm actually here to see Sara, it's urgent I speak with her".

"Well I'm afraid she phoned in sick this morning she isn't here".

The Warden answered Michael's question, leaning forward to look into those mysterious orbs hoping to read something, anything, then persisted after placing his hand on Michaels shoulder;

"Michael, I owe you an apology, I'm sorry if conversation at Dinner got too much for you, we really shouldn't have put you in that position"

"Its fine, I shouldn't have left like that, I just really need to find Sara"

Michael replied as he turned to leave.

The Warden grabbed his arm and stated defiantly;

"Your not a prisoner anymore Michael, I'd like to think of us as friends, if there's anything I can do"

Michael simply nodded, still holding that trademark clenched jaw and pokerfaced resolve.

Unsurprised by Michael's briefness Pope took his shoulder once again, sighed then said;

"You're a good man son, don't you doubt that".

Michael gave him another nod and returned to his car.

As Michael opened the door to get in he glanced across the roof of his car to the yard and noticed somebody watching him, somebody he wanted to speak to very much. The beady eyes of Brad Bellick met his gaze; Bellick then dismissed the guard he was probably berating for being fair and made a bee-line for Michael. Michael had slammed his car door shut again. He stood tall ready for the confrontation with arms folded across his chest and this time his emotions were not masked, the anger, the hatred, the loathing all radiated from him dangerously.

As Sara makes her way down the hallway to her husband's office, she walks fast with a renewed hope, whatever the outcome; she has decided she needs to talk to him. She comes to a stop in front of his secretary's desk and asks;

"Is Michael in his office Jennifer?"

"No Mrs Scofeild, he just called to say he is on his way?" The courteous young woman replies.

"Thank you, I'll wait inside"

Once inside his office Sara is surprised he isn't there, Michael Scofeild always works when there is a problem with his personal life, that's just Michael; she supposes it takes his mind of things. She understands that exercising his work brain when he can't solve a problem helps, because she often does the same. It has however upset her in the past, when they were first married she would be offended that he could concentrate on his work when she was distracted and hurting.

While she is still wondering where her husband could be, his desk phone rings.

"You've reached Michael Scofeild…"

She listens as the answering machine gets it, initially uninterested until she identifies the caller.

"Michael, its Nika."

She paused. Sara's mind somersaulted through a list of paranoid conclusions. She wondered if Nika was awkward about her and Michael's obviously rediscovered attractions. The remainder of the phone message, contrary to Sara's assumptions did not however involve plans of rendezvous, distasteful declarations or any other form of deceit and betrayal associated with the unforgivable sin of adultery.

"I had to call in a favour to get those reservations so late, so I hope you and Sara enjoyed dinner, anyway I'm calling because, I was glad you could meet James, and we wondered if you and Sara would be interested in having dinner sometime, after all, I'm certain he's the one for me Michael, and I want him to see how beautiful true love can be, you and Sara are the best example of that, so just another thing, she knows how much you love her Michael, she will understand why you left her dinner party, be strong. Ok, we'll talk to you soon. Bye."

The realisation dawns upon her as she slumps into the sofa in the corner of his office. It's a large office, of the most modern design and décor. Sara was so certain her evidence left no room for a sensible explanation. She composes herself, fighting not to let the panic and guilt of her apparent mistake consume her. Assuming that he is at home she picks up her bag from where she placed it on his coffee table and seats herself in his desk chair to find a pen and paper to leave him a note.

Finding a pad of yellow post-it notes she opens his top drawer to locate a pen. Much to her surprise, her eyes fall upon a very familiar silver pen. She picks it up and holds it close to her face, twirling it in her fingers to find the engraving she knows is there; 'Sara' written in beautiful cursive script. A reluctant smile graces her tired face as she is reminded of the deviant yet adorable side of her husband.

"You can have that back if you like"

Michael says from the doorway startling her.

She holds the pen up in front of her to make sure he can see it and tells him;

"I lost this, years ago, my favourite pen, and you've had it all along"

She states this exaggeratedly as her smile returns. She's still surprised especially when he informs her that he stole it from her infirmary at Fox River.

"I took it the day I left, to have something of you with me, I never thought I'd see you again, I feared the same last night Sara, please we need to talk"

She can see the fear etched across his face, his body is slumped, he looks tired and drained as if the pain is too much. She knows in that moment that Veronica is right about Michael's love for her. She is prepared to admit that she was at fault too, she didn't trust him; she got scared and assumed.

Sara concludes that she may also have a few demons, but as he opens his arms to her she knows they can work through them together.

They embrace and she knows its right, they fit together so well she swears she heard a 'click'.

Michael releases her slightly and brings his hands up to cup her face and look into her eyes, and that's when she notices the blood on his right hand. Taking it in her own, the worry is evident in her voice as she observes the inflamed knuckles and dry blood and asks;

"Were you in a fight?"

"Kind of"

Comes his response through a smile he knows he should have hidden the moment she notices it. She opens her mouth to voice further questions but he puts his finger to her lips silencing her.

"Lets try to have dinner again, and I'll tell you all of it, I'll tell you everything". He pleads.

She agrees with a small nod and they leave his office still embracing, both as scared as the other to experience the distance again.


	9. Delicious Meals and Desirable Deals

CH.9

Michael Scofield had never been a man to worry about the past or even reminisce about favourite childhood moments. As a professional man he would sit in expensive bars and restaurants making pointless conversation with the elite upper-class; that section of society so intent on publicising their worthiness or importance. The benefactors of Art Galleries or Historic Houses Trusts were littered throughout his profession, the field of expertise that accepted him because he was intelligent, creative and driven, and maybe also because he could afford the expensive suits to rub shoulders with.

He had spent countless evenings dining with these people, listening to them reminisce about their childhoods, they would describe whimsical adventures and family holidays, his imagination always broke free of his closed personality as he considered their memories and tried to imagine himself, Lincoln and their mother enjoying the same beach weekends or outings for ice-cream. The sense of family, the safety blanket it is to ones heart always coated the recollections of the more fortunate. From then on, after enduring the painful constant reminders of his childhood he had made a decision; the past is the past. He made his mark in the world as Michael Scofield, the creative and dedicated structural engineer; he had started from the very bottom to build that reputation and he intended to keep it. He was no longer defined by the neighbourhood he came from. It was so empowering to be able to establish ones self into such a reputable lifestyle that he kept everyone at arms length, and it worked; for quite some time Michael Scofield had everything he had ever wanted. At least that's what he thought.

That was before Fox River, before everything changed and control began to escape him more and more. The only person that had ever penetrated the shell was Sara. She had become the safety blanket around his heart and she accepted every flaw he had.

Michael sat on the bathroom bench in their apartment letting the thoughts flow freely while his wife disinfected and bandaged his injured hand. He had still managed to keep its cause a secret. He was able to convince her on their way home from his office to keep the questioning until dinner. For this he was thankful, the past week of his life had been a chaotic blur, he needed to think through the mess before he could explain everything to Sara. Although he wasn't sure if the news that he had run into Bellick, or rather that Bellick had run into his fist would ever be well received by his wife. She was the humanitarian; she had invented moral high-ground and would never concur with such acts of violence.

His musings about the immorality of revenge were interrupted by Sara's completion of his treatment. He looked down at his right hand which was now expertly wrapped in white bandage. He lifts it to eye-level for closer observation and twists his wrist to stretch his hand slightly, surveying Sara's work. There's still a slight throb of pain pulsating through his knuckles but he dismisses the thought, because he knows it's worth it.

Realising suddenly that his wife is standing in front of him waiting, he pulls himself from his thoughts and promptly thanks her. The sincerity evident in his eyes is a certainty she has always been able to trust, and this time he finds himself hoping he hasn't ruined that trust.

"Your welcome Michael, but there's no lollypops for secret keepers";

Sara returns with a hint of playfulness shining in her stunning eyes, and for the second time in ten minutes Michael thanks the gods he has her. The significance of her mood being so light regardless of their current circumstances is not lost on Michael as he pulls her to him, smiling appreciatively. He's still sitting on the bench, just like a patient on a gurney. She fits comfortably between his legs as she moves into his embrace and wraps her arms around his broad chest, snuggling into the crook of his neck. As he holds her, just a little tighter than usual he smoothes her long red locks down her back with a rhythmic attentiveness, perhaps subliminally hoping to sooth her doubts away. With her here in his arms, time doesn't exist and he knows they can face anything. He can feel the soft beat of her heart as she settles into his body; his tuned senses register the sweet smell of her shampoo and her warmth radiates through him as exhales a contented sigh.

Just for a second, he lets sentimentality quieten his hard edges and admits that his life with her is a blessing.

There's only one phrase that will convey all his thoughts;

"I love you Sara"

He whispers through her hair as he kisses her neck once, twice, three times in a quickening concession of caresses as he hopes with every fibre of his being that she can feel how much he means it.

It's evident that she does when she raises her head from his shoulder to press a soft slow kiss to his lips, slowing the tempo. He's relieved as he realises that every muscle in his body had been tense with anticipation, waiting for her acceptance of his declaration. The silent exchange of their love is a power beyond words, a dance choreographed by the senses on the most intimate level.

Responding to her kiss, he slides his tongue against her lower lip, gliding back and forth, his desperation evident, as he pleads with her to deepen the kiss. Sara pulls away from his lips just a fraction to organise her thoughts before desire envelopes her rationality. She leans her forehead against his to steady herself and enjoys a full breath of air before she finally speaks, although her eyes are still clouded.

"Michael, you promised me dinner. Hold that thought until later"

She utters on the end of a ragged breath. Meanwhile her cheeky smile and the mischievous gleam in her eyes are saying the exact opposite to her lips.

Michael exhales exaggeratedly, silently granting her wish with a forced nod, but not before slowly moving his hands up her sides with a concentrated refrain on the way to entangle them in her hair. Pausing there, he looks directly into her eyes, and whispers;

"You're my world; I'll make it all up to you Sara" he then presses a feather light kiss to her forehead for finality.

"We've got the rest of our lives for that Michael, but tonight; dinner".

She mirrors his sense of finality with a reassuring nod, before reaching for his hand, squeezing it tenderly then walking away from him into the separate part of the bathroom where the shower is, flashing him that same cheeky smile over her shoulder as she disappears through the doorway.

Wishfully inventing a suggestive motive behind her destination, confusion is displayed in his features before his resident poker-face can screen it.

Knowing him better than he would like to admit Sara reads his thoughts and yells over the now running shower, a slight girly giggle resonating through her words;

"I need to get ready Michael, you get ready too" and although he can't see her, he knows she shaking her head and contemplating the minds of men.

Michael sits in their lounge room, dressed and ready, flicking aimlessly through the television channels while he waits for her to finish doing whatever it is woman do in the bathroom.

When she comes out he quickly decides it's been worth the wait.

She's wearing the silk brown skirt with the ruffling at the bottom and the black lace singlet that shows off her long graceful neck. The exact outfit he had hoped she would wear last time, judging by the look of achievement on her face, he chances a guess that she knows it's his favourite.

For the second time in half an hour a sense of pure desire rushes through his veins, making every muscle in his body tingle.

She's looks positively majestic.

"Wow"

Is all he can stammer out as he looks her over from head to toe, amazed at how she can reduce him to something reminiscent of a nervous and speechless teenager.

She puts her arms out to her sides to gesture the question 'what do you think' whilst smiling nervously.

She walks over to where he is still seated on the lounge and bends down to place an exaggeratedly slow and soft caress to his lips, knowing full well that she is teasing him and she likes it.

She lets him return the kiss as a low grown of pleasure resonates from deep within his throat. She enjoys the feel of his hands rubbing up and down the back of her thighs against the silk fabric, but when he tries to take advantage and pull her into his lap she makes a stand.

Sniggering through her cheeky smile once again, as she pulls away, standing up, she states defiantly.

"Don't make me say it again Scofield…Dinner! …I'll be in the car"

The familiar face of Kathleen greets them with a broad smile as they make their way through the foyer toward the front counter. Michael notes thankfully that the waitress from last time isn't working; he concludes that she must be new or a casual staff member, he'd have been even more embarrassed if Kathleen, whom he's known for some time, had witnessed Sara standing him up.

"My favourite regulars" Kathleen states enthusiastically, leaning forward on the counter and looking them over like a proud mother. That's when Michael notices her eyes gleaming, the same way a child's does when they have been entrusted with a secret.

"My favourite waitress" Michael returns through a playful chuckle, feigning modesty at her comment. Her eyes are still twinkling when she addresses Sara but he begrudgingly decides to ignore his suspicions at least until the welcomes are over, then he will ask her what on earth she is smiling about.

"Welcome back, looking as stunning as always Mrs. Scofield, I love this brown skirt". Kathleen states matter-of-factly whilst leaning further over the counter to get a better look at the ruffling on the bottom.

"Oh thank you Kathleen, but as I keep telling you, you can call me Sara"

Sara giggles with a hint of embarrassment, but nevertheless appreciates the compliment and boldly does a twirl, if for no other reason than the comic benefit.

Michael decides he likes this carefree girly side of Sara more than he had previously realised.

"The usual table please Kathleen" Michael interjects rather strategically before the women can dive into chatter about skirts, fashion or anything remotely related.

Nodding confidently she comes out from behind counter to gesture the way and replies;

"Indeed…just the way you like it, alone on the balcony"

Still grinning like the cat that got the cream, Michael notes, as his confusion almost gets the better off him.

As Sara walks ahead however Michael's confusion is finally explained when Kathleen takes the opportunity to take his elbow in her hand from behind and lean in close to his ear, asking just quietly enough so that only he will hear;

"So I take it, all has been worked out Sir?"

Fighting the urge to throw his arms up in the air and announce "That's it" at the top of his lungs he simply replies with equal quietness and a perhaps over- exaggerated rolling of his eyes;

"I'm working on it Kat"

"Very well" she returns quickly as they reach the table, looking extremely pleased with her self.

"Enjoy your evening" She says and places the menu's she's been carrying on the table with another one of her confident nods, before walking away briskly to fetch their usual drinks.

"Candles Michael" Sara states half inquisitively tweaking one eyebrow upward, while she sits graciously in the chair he has pulled out for her.

After moving to the other side of the table and taking his own seat he replies;

"Of corse, nice girls deserve nothing but the best treatment"

They both grin at his reference to one of their first meetings as Kathleen returns with their drinks.

"The table meets your approval Mr. Scofield" She asks, though she doesn't expect an answer.

Michael nods his appreciation before she whisks away again.

"I always liked Kathleen"

Sara says matter-of-factly when his attention is returned to her.

After taking a sip of wine Michael explains proudly;

"She was always a good kid, she's been doing great since she started working here too, and she's starting college next year, University of Illinois has accepted her into their Arts College".

"Wow, Michael I'm proud of you, you mean so much to all of those kids at the community college. I'm glad you got back into it. That was something about you I was worried you'd lose after Fox River"

Sara offered; glad to be remembering one of the many reasons why she loved the man that she'd given her heart to.

Taking a deep breath, and then pursing his lips determinedly whilst reaching across the table to take her hands affectionately in his own. He begins the inevitable conversation bravely.

"Fox River…about that."

As he pauses before continuing Sara sadly notes the darkness returns to his eyes, the darkness that will always reside in his gorgeous green pools when his thoughts wander to those memories.

"I'm sorry about dinner with Henry".

Mirroring the determination in his resolve she squeezes his hand hoping to transfer some comfort or even support, then responds;

"Michael I know, I…"

But before she can think about her next sentence he holds up his hand to stop her, signalling to let him finish and then returning his hand to hers.

"I couldn't handle it; I honestly just had to leave. With Lincoln safe and you in my life, I'd really thought I was past it, but it all just hit me at once…I caved".

He takes another deep breath, mustering the effort to continue as if every word is coated with sharp spikes that tear at his throat as they pass.

"You deserve better Sara, better than a man with my past; I've always felt wrong to claim you as my wife, to know you have given yourself to me completely when I have so many problems…problems that you don't deserve the weight of Sara."

Glad to have it out, his demeanour calms slowly, she knows every word causes him pain.

"Please don't say that, I have had the exact same doubts, you certainly are not undeserving of me…God…I'm just as fortunate to have you. I have a past full of problems too remember…Michael, know that you can talk to me, I don't care how horrible the thoughts are, I want to hear them, I want to know about your pain, because it's part of you and I love you."

She pauses as she finishes, opening her mouth then closing it again apparently struggling to articulate herself appropriately.

"Why do I detect a 'but' coming here?"

He asks almost wincing, the fear in his eyes clearer than usual.

"Because you do, I guess" Sara admits tentatively.

He swallows and exhales loudly as if preparing himself for what's to come but never removing his eyes from hers. They burn into her and she almost changes what she's planned to say, and then decides against it; they are finally speaking freely, not masking anything for the benefit of the other.

"You scared me Michael. I had no idea where you were, and you weren't back until almost 3am. I had a pretty good idea of what was running through your head; I was terrified you weren't safe…It really hurt Michael. It really hurt that you ran out and couldn't talk to me. I want you to talk to me. There is nothing that you can say that will change how I feel about you."

Every muscle in his body constricts as she speaks, his heart in a vice threatening to tighten fully and crush the strength he's having trouble finding.

"I know I hurt you…"

He attempts to continue but she interjects;

"You went to your ex-wife Michael, I know she wasn't your wife in the traditional sense of the word, but she must have been something for you to have gone to her when, I'm sorry; but it should have been me."

The anger echoing through the statement isn't lost on either of them, but Michael continues helplessly.

"I know…"

Is all he can manage before he looks away from her, away from the table, trying to find something to focus on while he steadies his racing mind. It feels like she's slipping away, like nothing he can say will make a difference. In this moment he's certain the weight of his problems will always be a dark cloud over their heads, causing a rift between them. However disgusted he may be he turns back to her to try once more, because he has to.

"I know…and from now on you can have it all, I was so afraid I'd lost you forever when you walked out Sara. I can't bear the thought of being without you"

Shaking her head to dismiss his apparently unfounded fear, she calls upon some faith and optimism, the traits her taught her;

"It's not going to be easy Michael, but we'll work through it, one step at a time, I'm not certain I forgive you right now, but I am certain I love you and I'm not going anywhere, I just need you to know that you can talk to me".

This statement clearly intended to signal that she has had enough talking, for now, and would like to enjoy her meal. For this he is thankful. The relief washes over him like the warmth of a hot shower, and the comfort in his features returns ever so slightly, restoring the smallest fraction of hope. There's just one thing he feels compelled to add, all the while attempting to reinject some lightness into the conversation;

"If it's any consolation, it was Lincoln's idea to go to Nika's club, he'd upset V again, wanted a good strong drink I think. I didn't intentionally seek her out; I've only ever chased one woman and I'd chase her to the ends of the earth".

His last sentence resonating through the gorgeous smile she's always loved and if she's quite honest with herself; could never deny.

"I'm starving"; he states, unclenching their hands, which have been intertwined the entire past 15 minutes, he takes another sip of his drink before continuing;

"And with this conversation for an appetizer, the main meal better be good"

Stifling a giggle, she shakes her head but appreciates his humour nonetheless.

They enjoy their meals and a lighter brand of conversation; they speak of work and their patients and clients; they even bicker about the new curtains she's bought for their lounge room; taking full advantages of all the topics that seem to be co-requisites to a good meal.

They even indulge in feeding samples of their meals to each other, both revelling in their ability to appreciate those cheesy things that lovers do.

Just as they've finishing eating Sara's pager beeps from her handbag under the table. They both know she has to make a quick phone-call to check if Katie has everything under control so she excuses herself to duck outside.

"I'll meet you at the bar; we're done here aren't we?"

Michael asks as she walks away from the table.

She shoots him a quick "Yep" over her shoulders as she makes her way into the restaurant from their secluded balcony table.

Having settled Katie's panic about the whereabouts of a new inmates file she makes her way back through the busy restaurant. She's always liked dining out, especially with Michael who's such the gentleman. She's conscious that it's merely a female tendency, but at a restaurant with soft music, dim lighting and the chatter of people enjoying themselves she feels content and comfortable, even normal.

She's distracted from her daydream by a familiar face at one of the tables across the room. It's Brad Bellick…and an older woman, with the exact same scrunched nose, whom she assumes with a chortle to herself, is his mother. 'He must have had a gift-card for this place' she mumbles inaudibly to herself, still giggling as she hurries through the crowd in an effort not to be seen. She sneaks one last glance over her shoulder just to check if she's been successful in her stealthiness when she notices it; she has to do a double take and the woman behind her almost crashes into her back, does Bellick have a black eye...and is that a bruised cheek?

She decides dismissively that he finally got a bit of his own medicine back at Fox River.

Returning to find her husband at the bar speaking with two people, she files the amusing news of Bellick away until later and rushes through the crowd to get a closer look at Michael's company. It's Nika and what Sara identifies cynically as her client for this evening. Noting the assortment of people she is running into tonight; she sighs bitterly to herself before pausing to plaster on her best smile then approaches the three of them.

"Sara" Nika exclaims enthusiastically as she holds out her hand to offer a polite greeting.

Sara returns a curt hello as she notices with annoyance that she is sitting in the seat beside Michael. Conscious yet not caring that she is responding out of pure female rivalry, she swiftly finds Michael's knee and takes residence there quite possessively.

"Darling, good, you found us ok?" Michael checks as he turns to place a brisk kiss to her cheek before continuing;

"Nika and James have just arrived for dinner, they spotted me on they're way through and stopped to say hello"

Michael explains and Sara can sense the tentativeness in his tone, she smiles inwardly as she realises she actually scares him from time to time.

James smiles at Sara politely and Nika realises Michael's forgetfulness;

"Sara, this is my partner James, James this is Sara, I was telling you about her, Michael's wife"; comes the routine introduction.

"Nice to meet you James" Sara responds smiling, but this time her politeness is genuine, perhaps knowing Nika isn't a threat to her is comforting subconsciously.

"And you Sara, its nice to finally meet you, Nika speaks highly of you."

James replies. Sara is admittedly shocked. Nika speaks highly of her. She's not sure why she finds it so astonishing, but she likes it nevertheless.

"We have a reservation, we should keep moving" James continues.

"Yes of corse, it was nice to see you both again"

She says addressing them both, and Sara confusedly notes that she actually appears to mean it.

Michael shakes James' hand before they retreat from the bar, then he focuses his attention on Sara, and wrapping his arms around her waist.

"This is nice" he breaths, kissing her neck from behind.

"Well there were no free chairs, and a nice girl's allowed to be cheeky from time to time isn't she? You don't mind do you?"

Sara returns, smiling slightly out of embarrassment.

Turning her around to kiss her fully on the lips, he then smiles through a succession of more kisses and murmurs;

"I don't mind at all"

Raw desire is written all over his usually guarded features. Sara returns his kiss; this time letting him deepen it by opening her mouth to his slick and capable tongue. There's something alluring about publicly displaying affection. She suspects that there's something naughty about it that her inner needs respond to, or perhaps it's that a girl likes knowing how much she is wanted. Which ever it is she doesn't care.

Pulling out of the kiss, Michael grins mischievous, and his eyes are twinkling with something she's missed these past few days.

"Let's go home"

He states, voicing her exact thoughts.

"Let me use the bathroom, you get the bill, and I'll meet you at the car"

She replies with another quick kiss before they part ways driven by a new enthusiasm.

"Deal" he concludes confidently whilst hurriedly reaching for his wallet with one hand and signalling the barman with the other all in the one movement.


End file.
